


i want you, i don't know if i need you (but ooh, i'd die to find out)

by zoeyclarke



Category: Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Humor, One Shot, Pining, Sharing a Room, takes place in 2x01 canon bc we stan big boss zoey, this is for the discord besties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:20:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28636179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoeyclarke/pseuds/zoeyclarke
Summary: Tobin pipes up confidently, “Well, speak of the devil! Here’s our woman of the hour, my hella awesome wife, Zoey.” Zoey sighs. So much for not being married.(Or: Zoey gets roped into going on a work trip with Tobin, and it results in some definitely fake, totally not real dating.)
Relationships: Tobin Batra/Zoey Clarke
Comments: 14
Kudos: 27





	i want you, i don't know if i need you (but ooh, i'd die to find out)

**Author's Note:**

> *evil laugh* it's rarepair time and i'm not sorry. this goes out to the discord babes, y'all are some real ones. enjoy your cameo mary, and please don't take offense <3
> 
> title and lyrics in story from "i want you" by savage garden.

Zoey  _ really _ thought she had made some headway with Leif the past few months. After all, it seems like she had already reached the peak level of hatred (okay, fine,  _ mild dislike)  _ toward him a while ago now. And lately, he’s been a great manager; having stumbled a little at first, he has since taken pretty well to Zoey’s old position on the fourth floor.

But then he just _had_ to go and get the flu. And in a perfectly _loathsome_ domino effect situation, Zoey has found herself seated next to Tobin on a plane to Portland. She isn’t supposed to be here— she’s kind of, y’know, the _boss_ of the _entire_ fourth floor of SPRQ Point now. And with her best coder in the bullpen currently out sick mowing through boxes of tissues and spewing out his guts, she knows things can’t be in _that_ great of shape back home. She _so very much_ did not want to leave— god, Joan would be so disappointed in her— but both Tobin and Leif had _insisted_ (in a _very_ annoying and _definitely_ _fake_ submissive tone) that if Leif can’t go to this thing, then it should be Zoey who represents SPRQ Point with Tobin. And anyway, she knows that Leif is _more_ than capable of passive-aggressive moping, and Zoey wasn’t about to spend a day fielding complaints from brogrammers nearly getting kicked in the face by Leif’s long-ass legs dangling from the staircase mid-mope session.

The event itself is a fairly new occurrence, only in its third or fourth year, and is apparently centered on a competition between several pairs of “dynamic duo programmers” from all over the country. Leif had discovered the contest and told Zoey about it, and after some thinking, she realized it could be good publicity for SPRQ Point and approved sending Tobin and Leif to represent their little corner of the company there. 

Well, it’s no longer Tobin and Leif, obviously. It’s now Tobin and  _ Zoey,  _ who truly  _ hates _ that they had just missed the cut-off date to back out of this stupid competition. And now, because they got SPRQ Point all caught up in this irreversible commitment, Zoey had no choice but to leave the office early on a busy Friday to catch this flight. She’s eternally grateful for Simon, who, despite working in the completely separate marketing department, agreed to do her a favor and keep an eye on her team for the rest of the day. Otherwise, Zoey probably would’ve had to choose between putting Glenn or George in charge, and  _ Jesus Christ,  _ she’s not  _ that  _ desperate. Good thing this trip extends just through the weekend. She and Tobin will be back in San Francisco by late Sunday, all ready to go for Monday morning, and everything will be  _ fine.  _

_ “Woooooo,  _ comin’ in for a landing, Z-bop!” Tobin’s voice cuts into Zoey’s troubled thoughts. Her mind has already been cloudy enough from the stress of taking this new position onto her shoulders so soon after her dad died. Let alone  _ now, _ when she has just spent the past almost two hours crammed in the coach section next to Tobin  _ “The change in air pressure gives me hella gas, and it’s inevitable, so we just gotta deal with it together” _ Batra. 

Why oh  _ why  _ did Zoey listen to her mom’s advice about this trip?  _ “You could use a vacation, Zoey. God knows all of us could. I think you should take advantage of this chance. At least it’ll get you out of the office for a while.”  _ Right, as if Zoey  _ didn’t _ just spend six weeks in a blanket cocoon in her childhood bedroom. 

A brief coffee outing with Max hadn’t done anything to convince her otherwise, either.  _ “You might as well go, Zo. Portland is a cool city. People say it’s hipster New York, except take out the ‘New York’ part.”  _ He’d then smiled down at his phone, and turned the screen toward Zoey’s questioning glance.  _ “Ha, look. I told Simon and Mo in the group chat that I’m hanging with you, and Mo says hi. And also nail polish emoji. Hm, it’ll take me a minute to decode that, hold on.” _

“Oh,” Zoey mumbles, pretending her startled jump is just her straightening from a slouch in the cramped, uncomfortable plane seat. “Are we landing now?”

“Nope, just wanted to warn you that my fist”— Tobin raises said fist and aims it at Zoey’s closest hand, which is currently drumming the open SkyMall catalog on her seat-back tray— “is coming in for a landing to bump yours.” He then taps his knuckles to her unresponsive hand. Zoey ignores him. “I  _ said,”  _ Tobin tries again, “my  _ fist...  _ is  _ bumping—” _

“Tobin, please,” she sighs. “I really can’t handle a fist-bump right now.”

Tobin shrinks at her razor-edged words. Zoey has noticed that he doesn’t seem able to recover from her scolding him as quickly as he used to. Maybe it’s just because the boss-factor has now doubled. That’s all Zoey will allow herself to think.

But then, after a pause that allows Zoey’s building headache to noticeably throb for a few seconds, Tobin finds his delayed retaliation: “Fair enough. Hypothetically, how opposed would you be to a high-five instead?”

_ “Attention passengers, we are now approaching our descent into beautiful Portland, Oregon. The weather here is currently partly cloudy and it’s a balmy sixty-eight degrees Fahrenheit. We hope you enjoyed every minute of your flight, and we appreciate your choice to fly with us today.”  _

Zoey actually has quite a few choice words about how much she “enjoyed” her flight, but the actions of her seat neighbor— who she  _ is  _ traveling with for  _ work  _ purposes— are no fault of the airline. So all she says out loud is, “Oh, thank  _ god.”  _ Then she swats Tobin out of her personal space bubble and folds up her tray table. Tobin had insisted on getting the window seat, so she has no choice but to stare at the seat in front of her while he gets to search for the runway through the thinning clouds.

Within a few seconds of sitting on the tarmac, Zoey takes her phone off airplane mode and watches the flood of unread work emails invade her inbox. God, no wonder Joan dedicates every spare breath to an insult or order; how can Zoey possibly be chipper when her main source of reading material is all _“Dear Ms. Clarke”_ this and _“Per my last email”_ that? It’s _exhausting._

After a few minutes of impatient squirming, they’re able to stand and retrieve their bags from the overhead bin. Zoey only packed a small duffel for the two-night trip (Joan would cringe at the way Zoey rolled up her nice blazers to fit them in this bag, but as long as they don’t lose their bright fuschia color, Zoey couldn’t care less), and because it’s so small, it managed to slide all the way to the back of the bin sometime during the flight. Zoey groans, standing on her toes and struggling to touch the strap that is barely within reach, but she can only get her fingertips to graze it.

Without a word, Tobin reaches over and tugs the bag forward, wisely allowing Zoey to get it herself rather than grabbing the entire item for her.

“Uh, thanks,” Zoey mutters, looking away from his impassive face as she adjusts the strap on her shoulder.

They emerge into the crowded airport, and of course Tobin has to make a pit stop to rob an unsuspecting newsstand of their entire gummy worm supply. While he makes that purchase (throwing in a green and yellow hoodie emblazoned with  _ “PORTLAND”  _ across the chest, too, because of  _ course),  _ Zoey calls them an Uber to the hotel where the coding competition is taking place.

Everything is going well; Zoey even keeps her chin up long enough to accept a few gummy offerings in the backseat of a car who’s driver seems less than pleased at the prospect of sugar crystals touching the leather seats. But then Zoey and Tobin walk into the hotel lobby and come face-to-face with a banner boasting the only event happening here:

_ COUPLES IN CODING: 4TH ANNUAL COMPETITION THIS WEEKEND _

“No,” Zoey says immediately, whirling around and tapping desperately through her phone to pull up the prolifically-worded emails from Leif explaining the premise of the event.

Meanwhile, Tobin stares at the banner, trapped in a web of stupefaction. “Okay, hold up. Why does that say  _ ‘Couples’  _ and why do I feel the sudden urge to send my man Leif  _ several _ apoplectic texts?”

Zoey rolls her eyes at the casually-dropped spelling bee word. “Okay, okay, maybe...  _ maybe  _ this is a mistake. We’re at the wrong hotel. Or— or they just mean ‘couples’ as in  _ two  _ people, like a  _ couple  _ of people. It just means two coders, in a pair, best buds— well, kind of— who  _ aren’t  _ in any kind of relationship whatsoever—”

While Zoey is ranting, she fails to notice that her bag, which had slipped off her shoulder upon their arrival, is now underfoot— until it’s too late. The toe of her white trainer (yes, Zoey refuses to wear stilettos to a desk job, and  _ yes,  _ that means she will be a boss bitch in a pantsuit and sneakers,  _ what about it)  _ catches on the duffel, sending her lurching forward toward Tobin. Probably by instinct, he half-turns to catch her before she faceplants. His hands are warm and firm on her forearms, body heat sinking through her sleeves to her skin. Mortified (as if a clumsy mishap like this  _ isn’t  _ an almost-daily occurrence for her), Zoey stays frozen for a good ten seconds, eyes wide and drilling directly into Tobin’s equally surprised stare.

“Hello there! You two must be here for the  _ Couples in Coding  _ competition. Welcome!”

Startled, they both glance over to see an alarmingly overeager woman wearing glasses and a huge smile. A nametag is pinned to her cardigan with the competition’s logo (a very generic, rudely  _ unrevealing  _ logo in Zoey’s opinion) on it above the name  _ Mary.  _

One of them must give an affirmative nod, because Mary then rushes up to them and hands Zoey a brochure and a flyer. “I’d give papers to both of you, but we’re trying to go easy on the whole using-paper-thing since we’re a tech organization. I’m sure you’re fine with sharing,” she says with a giggle and a wink. 

Zoey tries to untangle herself from Tobin’s loose, awkward embrace just enough to hold the flyer and scan over it properly. (She chooses not to notice one of Tobin’s fingers still glued to the edge of her sleeve.) Her eyes find a list of rules on the back of the paper and she skims over each of them until she reaches the last one: _Each set of participants must be in a_ _genuine_ _relationship of a romantic, or otherwise non-platonic, nature. Anything else defeats the purpose of the contest. Any contestants who are found to be in violation of this requirement will be automatically disqualified from the competition, and will be prohibited from receiving the cash prize—_ wait, cash prize? Zoey flips over the flyer, searching for a specific number, but Tobin beats her to it: _“Whoa,_ sexy. That is a _lot_ of zeros.”

Zoey doesn’t have the wherewithal to glare at him for leaning so closely over her shoulder. Holy  _ shit,  _ she hasn’t been this excited to see so many zeros since her binary code phase. Somehow  _ another  _ important detail Leif managed to leave out was how  _ grand  _ the actual prize is. 

Since SPRQ Point is currently  _ “broooke”  _ thanks to Danny Michael Davis’ illicit activities, this money could do  _ wonders  _ for the fourth floor. First off, they could buy some new state-of-the-art equipment (the majority of their fleet of SPRQtops are dinosaurs by now; when George tried to install the latest software update onto the obsolete system last week, his computer quite literally caught on fire, and needless to say, Zoey does  _ not  _ want to face another building evacuation in the rain while half of the sixth floor staff laughs at them). This money could also fund the fancy new frozen yogurt bar Zoey has been considering,  _ and  _ on top of that they could buy out the entire flameless candle aisle at Target for the meditation room. Oh, yeah, they’re  _ definitely  _ doing this thing. 

In the cluttered calendar in her mind, Zoey pencils in  _ being mad at Leif  _ for later, because maybe he’s actually done them a favor (and right now it would just look weird to actually voice-command that into her SPRQwatch).

But then she’s reminded of exactly  _ who  _ is here with her, and Zoey has to bite back a frustrated sigh. How can she possibly get Tobin on board with this terrible plan while a golden retriever-esque lady is still staring at them?

“So,” Mary says after a minute, pointing at where Zoey and Tobin are still touching, “you two just can’t seem to keep your hands off each other! How long have you been together?”

“Uhh,” Zoey begins, brain lagging like all those old SPRQtops— and that reminder urges her to go full speed ahead with this (very super  _ extremely  _ temporary) lie.

So at the exact same time, she answers “We’ve been dating for—” while Tobin says, “We’ve been married for six...” They both trail off and blink at each other. Zoey narrows her eyes—  _ married?! Really, Tobin?  _ God,  _ if looks could kill...  _

Luckily, Mary misinterprets their slip-up. “Oh, still  _ newlyweds,  _ huh? Believe me, I know how it is,” she laughs.

Zoey hurries to step out of the immediate vicinity of Tobin, disguising it into bending over to pick up her duffel. “Uh,  _ haha,  _ yeah,” she sputters, swinging her free arm back and forth just in case Tobin might have half a mind to try holding her hand to  _ really  _ sell the act. “That’s, um, that’s why we still don’t have our rings yet.” The excuse is blurted out unintentionally, but Zoey is glad she says it, because judging by Mary’s pattern of behavior so far, that would’ve been the very next thing she asked them.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s right,” Tobin supplies. “We’re kind of  _ above  _ the whole  _ ring thing,  _ actually. We’re on a whole other  _ level,  _ so we decided to get  _ toe  _ rings instead. Here, do you wanna see?” He leans down and starts pulling off his shoe as if there’s actually anything to show (and god, Zoey hopes there isn’t). 

Just in time, she grabs his arm to stop him, and  _ seriously,  _ how is he so warm? “We... we should be getting checked in,” Zoey interrupts, steering their awkward little two-person parade around the one-person welcoming committee who has enough energy for a room full of people. 

“Alright, see you lovebirds around!” Mary calls after them, none the wiser.

Zoey drags Tobin until he apparently remembers how to use his feet again. They march up to the check-in desk and Zoey gives the employee at the computer their information.

“Okay, so... you have a reservation for one room, two queen-size beds—”

Zoey slams her elbows onto the desk and presses her forehead into her palms. “This can’t be happening,” she whispers too quietly for anyone else to hear. She takes a moment to get through _the_ _moment she’s having,_ then lifts her head and croaks, “Please tell me you have a second room available.”

“I’m afraid not, ma’am. We’re completely booked for the event this weekend. If you check back tomorrow, there might be an opening, but it’s not likely.” 

Of course. Of course, of course. Leif had made the reservation through the company back when he thought it was still him and Tobin going; so  _ of course  _ he would save the company money by booking only one room, because he and Tobin  _ live  _ together, so why would  _ sharing a hotel room  _ be a big deal? She’d once heard Tobin describe their friendship as  _ “a healthy dose of bromoerotic,”  _ so she has to assume that means they’re extremely comfortable being in each other’s space.

Her... _not so much._ But it looks like she’ll have to just suck it up. At least there will be two separate beds. Zoey isn’t sure what she would do if she and _Tobin_ of all people happened to land in the middle of one of the fanfiction tropes she used to write for _Star Wars_ at age twelve.

“Okay, whatever,” Zoey sighs. She accepts the two keycards from the worker then leads Tobin to the elevator. The moment the doors slide shut, she says to him without turning, “So we’re in agreement that this is necessary  _ just  _ for the money, and for no other reason?”

_ “Definitely  _ just for the money, Z-brah. I’m here to be a  _ cash money hero _ and secure that fro-yo bar. That’s it.”

Does he _really_ have to talk like... well, _that?_ At least they’re on the same page about the fro-yo bar, she muses. Zoey bites her lip and adds, “And to everyone else we come across, we’re just _dating,_ okay? _Not_ a newlywed couple with toe rings. Got it?”

“Fair point,” Tobin replies.

Zoey rubs her temples, wincing at the harsh  _ ding-ding  _ the elevator emits when it reaches their floor. “It’s not a  _ point,  _ Tobin, that’s an  _ order,”  _ she growls. Tobin is struck silent as he follows her down the hallway, and says nothing when she tosses one of the keycards over her shoulder at him.

They’re barely in the room for a minute before Tobin abruptly makes his way to the door again, mumbling something about calling Leif before disappearing into the hall.

* * *

Lucky for Tobin, unlucky for Leif, Leif answers on the first ring. “Hey, bro,” Tobin says, his voice coming out strangled as he paces the carpeted corridor. He turned a few corners before actually making the call, wanting to put some distance between their room and the conversation that’s about to happen. Zoey does  _ not  _ need to see nor hear how flustered he is.

“Uh, hello,” Leif responds, sounding distracted and still a little under the weather. Knowing him, he’s probably trying to catch up on work from the couch in their apartment, SPRQtop open on his lap while a muted episode of  _ The Office  _ plays on the TV. He probably even put on a tie and everything.

“You sound better,” Tobin says through gritted teeth. “That’s good. That’s  _ great. _ Is your appetite back?”

“Somewhat. I actually—”

Tobin cuts him off. “Well, I hope you’re hungry for  _ beef,  _ because  _ I’ve got some  _ with you. What the  _ fuck,  _ dude?”

Leif is taken aback. “Hold on, Tobes,  _ what  _ are you talking about? What’s wrong?”

“Oh, I dunno, when exactly were you planning on telling us that this is a  _ couples’  _ contest?”

The other end of the line is silent, and that only leaves room for more dread to creep into Tobin’s stomach. He presses himself against the wall, trying not to imagine a certain redhead holding him there, her hands putting pressure in all the right spots—

No.  _ No, no, no.  _ Hold it right there, brain.

“Umm... I  _ wasn’t  _ planning on telling you that, because I didn’t  _ know,”  _ Leif admits. “But hey, this could be a good thing.”

“How?” Tobin whines. “Zoey and I are sharing a hotel room, bro. We already had to convince someone that we’re  _ together,  _ though it surprisingly didn’t take that much convincing, which is a whole other issue—”

“May I remind you of what you said to me when Zoey was promoted to fourth floor boss?” Oh, no. Tobin knows  _ exactly  _ where Leif is going with this. It’s so unfair for him to pull a quote from when they were a few beers into old sexist habits.

“Please don’t—”

“‘Would I sleep with the  _ new  _ boss?’” Leif recites in a weird pitch that totally doesn’t sound like Tobin at all. “‘Only if— actually, no  _ if.  _ I’d sleep with Zoey.’”

“I’m going to kill you,” Tobin tells his best friend. “I’m going to take that tie with the little airplane on it and I’m going to twist it around your giraffe neck and—”

Leif sighs. “Come on, dude. It’s  _ perfectly normal,  _ okay? We’ve  _ all  _ had a crush on Zoey at some point; it’s like a  _ rite of passage _ or something. You’ll get through it.”

Tobin wants to say something else, but his throat has gone dry. A  _ crush  _ on Zoey? Is he  _ kidding?  _ How  _ dare  _ Leif say that in that smug, amused tone of his?

“Have a good weekend, Tobes,” Leif says, then hangs up.

* * *

The competition begins early tomorrow morning, so Zoey wastes no time getting ready for bed after a late dinner. When she steps out of the bathroom in her pajamas, she finds Tobin sprawled on his bed watching _WALL-E_ on the TV. She lingers in the doorway for a moment, watching the scene until it goes to commercials. She shuffles over to her bed and pulls back the covers, grateful she doesn’t have to make room for herself in a sea of empty Cheetos bags from the vending machine down the hall.

“Have you seen it before?” Zoey asks as she settles into bed.  _ “WALL-E,  _ I mean.”

“Duh, of course I have,” Tobin says around a mouthful of Cheetos.

Zoey is glad he isn’t looking at her, because then he would see her amused smirk. “Well, it’s my favorite Pixar movie,” she says. “I love anything space,  _ let alone  _ robots in space, so this one sealed the deal for me.”

Tobin finally peers over at her mid-crunch, a light dusting of orange in his beard. “Aw hell yeah, it’s my favorite too. Good to know you have taste, Zo.” Zoey thinks she sees a smile hidden behind the hand currently shoveling in more snacks, but maybe it’s a trick of her imagination.

* * *

Shockingly, Tobin beats Zoey to breakfast the next morning. She’d been half-expecting to have to drag him out of bed, but instead awoke to a note scribbled on the hotel-provided notepad on the nightstand between their beds:  _ “Z— Went downstairs to gorge. T.”  _ It’s followed by a scribbled doodle that might be a peace sign, but could also be a rough sketch of the peach emoji (but why would  _ that _ be relevant here?)

On her way to the hotel’s breakfast area, Zoey stops by the front desk. “Hey, I’m one of the people here for the event, and my, uh...  _ partner  _ and I are staying in a single room reserved under SPRQ Point. I was wondering if there was any chance you guys had a second room available today?”

The front desk clerk winces and starts typing something into his computer. “Uh-oh, is someone in the doghouse?” he jokes. Zoey is confused until she remembers that this stupid event is for  _ couples  _ in coding,  _ ugh.  _ If she cared enough, she would leave a bad review on Google for this employee’s brazen attitude, but she doesn’t _ actually _ care, not even a  _ little  _ bit. (Okay, maybe a smidge. But that’s  _ all.)  _ Thankfully, she doesn’t have to dignify that with a response, because the clerk informs her that they still don’t have anything free. “If you’d like, we can take down your number and send you a text or call if something opens up,” he says.

“Yes,  _ yes,  _ that would be  _ lovely,  _ thank you,” Zoey says. She provides her number, and less than thirty seconds later she is  _ so  _ glad she did, because she walks into the breakfast room to find Tobin  _ loudly  _ describing what seems to be their  _ wedding night  _ to some entranced fellow contestants.

“... and it’s like, she’s my  _ boss,  _ you know, so it took a while for people to accept us and our forbidden office romance. Because of that, we decided to elope in Vegas.” Tobin leans closer to his audience, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Just between you and me, Zoey’s got a  _ bit  _ of a gambling problem, it turns out. But nothing unmanageable—”

_ “Tobin.”  _ Zoey’s greeting is brisk, the letters of his name carved out of ice. It’s not enough to the universe that she has to inappropriately  _ share  _ a room with her coworker— said coworker  _ also,  _ apparently, has to turn their fictional relationship into the so-called greatest love story since  _ Twilight.  _

Tobin’s voice is weirdly strained when he responds, “Haha, uh, good morning,  _ honey.”  _ Zoey briefly wonders why, but then she looks down. She’s standing behind his chair, and somehow her hand sort-of-accidentally ended up gripping his shoulder. For them it’s not exactly a friendly gesture, but to the others at the table, it is easily interpreted as something affectionate.

Zoey quickly removes her hand, and Tobin finds his voice again, piping up more confidently, “Well, speak of the devil! Here’s our woman of the hour, my hella awesome wife, Zoey.” So much for  _ not  _ being married.

His introduction is met with a chorus of hellos from the other coders, and Zoey tries paying attention to matching names with faces. They have an appearance to put on, after all, and the least they can do is be good representatives for SPRQ Point. So without thinking it through  _ too  _ much, Zoey grudgingly bends down and pecks Tobin’s cheek, doing her best to ignore the way his facial hair scrapes her jaw on her way back up. She then takes a seat next to him, and Tobin pushes aside the thirty plates of buffet food he’s mowed through to make space for her on the table. Zoey nods along to the animated conversation, rubbing absently at her jaw the entire time. God, she needs some coffee ASAP.

* * *

The first day of the competition is intense. By the time she and Tobin stumble into their room that evening, Zoey is positively  _ drained.  _ Fortunately, they didn’t have to act overly couple-y during the actual contest, because everyone was too busy rattling out code on their keyboards to judge the believability of fake kisses and fake hand holding and fake loving glances. Not that Zoey and Tobin  _ did  _ either of the first two things, and if they  _ did  _ happen to do the last thing, that’s nobody’s business but their own.

“I think I’m gonna go for a swim,” Tobin announces, catching Zoey by surprise as she unpins her nametag from her blazer. “Pretty sure I saw they had a pool here.”

“Oh, um, okay,” she replies. She focuses on taking out her earrings, pretending not to notice as Tobin starts stepping out of his pants, not even bothering to go to the bathroom. Is he seriously about to  _ change  _ five feet away from her? A burning sweat creeps down the back of her neck, and  _ god,  _ Zoey has never tried so hard to avert her eyes while actually not averting them at all. Therefore she can’t help it when she points out, “You were wearing swim trunks underneath all day?”

Tobin shrugs, his body language coming off as unfazed but his face telling a different story. “I usually do. You never know when you might stumble across a pool.”

Zoey considers. “I feel like you don’t just...  _ stumble across a pool  _ that often, normally.”

“Yeah, which is why I go commando the rest of the time.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, the guarded expression on Tobin’s face adds yet another layer, and he turns away sharply, stuffing his phone into the kangaroo pocket of his Portland airport hoodie. “I’ll, uh, I’ll be back later, then. You don’t want to... join—?” He doesn’t finish the awkward question, but he doesn’t have to.

“No, nope, I’m good. I’ll be here, um... keeping the bed warm,” Zoey answers, and  _ holy shit,  _ if neither of them currently have the brain cell, then who the fuck  _ does?  _ “I— I mean... oh god. I meant the  _ beds,  _ plural. Because there’s two  _ separate  _ beds that we are sleeping in separately, and...” She gives up, hiding her face behind her hands with a pained groan. “Damn it, you know what I mean. I won’t touch your bed, I promise. I don’t... I don’t know where that came from.”

Tobin scratches behind his head as he stands in the doorway. “All good, Zo-master. Not like we have to put on a show when it’s just the two of us.” He grins stiffly, looking away for a second before returning hesitant brown eyes to her. “Maybe find a movie for when I get back, if that’s not... weird. I’m up for a classic,” he says, and Zoey is about to suggest a  _ Star Wars  _ film when he instead goes, “like  _ Megamind  _ or something.”

_ Sigh.  _

* * *

Not even twenty minutes later, Zoey is on her way down to the first floor again. The hotel just notified her that another room has opened up, and she simply  _ has  _ to switch rooms before she loses the last bit of her sanity at the hands of none other than Tobin freakin’ Batra. But there’s a small problem— Tobin forgot to bring his keycard with him, and she doesn’t want him to be locked out of the room when he comes back from his swim and she’s gone.

With a heavy sigh, she steps out of the elevator and scans a nearby directory sign, shoulders slumping in relief when she sees that the indoor pool is just down the hall. She hustles up to the pool room, pausing to peer through the glass window in the door. She certainly did  _ not  _ expect to see the sight that is currently greeting her eyes: a lean, shirtless Tobin climbing out of the pool, pushing floppy wet hair off his forehead as rivulets of water snake down his body. And  _ worst  _ of all, Zoey recognizes the beginnings of a heart song covering up the gentle splashing sounds made by the few other hotel guests using the pool.

Knowing she has no choice but to walk into it, Zoey swipes her keycard in the door and walks into the hot, moisture-choked room. “Hey,” she says, approaching Tobin as he stands at one of the pool chairs, wiping himself down with a threadbare white hotel towel.

And that’s when the heart song kicks into full force. Tobin lifts his face from where it was hidden in the towel, smoothly launching into rapping lyrics which are, as always, unfamiliar to Zoey.

_ Anytime I need to see your face, I just close my eyes _

_ And I am taken to a place where your crystal mind _

_ And magenta feelings take up shelter in the base of my spine _

_ Sweet like a chic-a-cherry cola _

He tosses the towel onto the lounge chair and rakes his hands through his damp hair, effectively mussing it up and making a few dark curls fall limply on his forehead. He walks past Zoey as if she isn’t there, continuing to spit lyrics like he’s thinking out loud.

_ I don’t need to try to explain; I just hold on tight _

_ And if it happens again, I might move so slightly _

_ To the arms and the lips and the face of the human cannonball _

_ That I need to, I want to _

Zoey watches numbly as Tobin spins around, bursting into a swift breakdance before he rises again and fixes his eyes on her, beckoning with an outstretched arm. The entire time, Zoey is  _ achingly  _ aware of his shirtless status and how that allows her to see the ripple of  _ every  _ wiry muscle on display for this choreography (which seems to have been carefully planned with the slippery tile floor in mind).

_ Come stand a little bit closer _

_ Breathe in and get a bit higher _

_ You’ll never know what hit you _

_ When I get to you _

Zoey stays frozen while Tobin dances around her in a blur, all leaping limbs and waving arms. His voice sounds unfairly great with this song, however, and it’s getting harder for her to keep still and not let her body react for her.

_ Ooh, I want you, I don’t know if I need you, but _

_ Ooh, I’d die to find out _

_ Ooh, I want you, I don’t know if I need you, but _

_ Ooh, I’d die to find out _

She can’t take it anymore. Zoey thrusts out both of her hands, grasping for any part of him that’s in reach— downy chest hair, wet skin, the waistband of his patterned swim trunks (which are covered in tiny flamingoes, she realizes upon closer inspection, but that’s a layer of obnoxiousness she’d rather not address at the moment)— and killing the heart song with a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss.

Who knows what was actually happening in real life during all this; maybe time froze, maybe it didn’t. But it’s no question that her move takes Tobin by surprise. He’s so shocked, in fact, that his first instinct is to back away. Neither of them realize that without her clutching onto him, Zoey has no sense of balance to prevent her from falling into the pool, which she unwittingly ended up standing right on the edge of.

There are gasps from the other pool users as Zoey falls backward, hitting the water’s surface with a pitiful splash. Right away she emerges from underwater and struggles over to one of the ladders, nearly tripping over herself under the weight of sopping clothes and smeared mascara lashes. Tobin grabs her arms, hoisting her out of the water and guiding her over to where the towels are stacked.

In a rush of movement, Zoey stands there and lets Tobin mop her up as best as he can, brushing wet strands of hair out of her eyes. (She’s so grateful that she already took off her precious blazer and left it back in the room.) He says a lot of words that she doesn’t comprehend, and by the time she reconnects with her consciousness, they are in the elevator, and she has somehow ended up wearing Tobin’s eye-hurtingly-bright Portland hoodie. She blinks down at it, then stares over at him, and all he offers by way of explanation is, “You were shivering” and a shrug.

When they return to the room, Zoey immediately retreats into the shower without a word. She just might hide in here forever, she thinks. If she could just do that, that would be  _ great.  _

But as she’s putting on her pajamas a few minutes later, she hears Tobin through the bathroom door, commenting as he channel-surfs on the TV. “Hey, good news, Zo, they’re playing one of the  _ Shrek  _ movies on this channel,” he calls to her, making her heart stumble over its next beat. But here’s the worst part of the problem: he then adds, “Ooh, and it’s on channel 69.  _ Niiiice.”  _ And that doesn’t do anything to crush the fluttery feeling in her chest. What has  _ happened  _ to her?

Not long after, Zoey cracks open the door and peeks out into the room. Tobin is laying on his stomach on his bed, legs kicking the air as he messes with the TV remote. Despite her efforts to be quiet, he notices her anyway, and tosses a smile in her direction. “Hi,” he says, as if he hasn’t just turned her world upside down. “Did you hear what I said about  _ Shrek  _ being on—”

“Let’s put a pin in the  _ Shrek  _ thing for now,” Zoey says slowly, pushing open the door the rest of the way. She hesitates, then goes to sit down gingerly at the foot of her bed, facing him with her hands clasped in her lap. “What, um... what do you think about the whole...” She gestures helplessly for a moment, then fills in the blank with “... pool mishap?”

“Uh, well,” Tobin says, his face sobering as he hits the mute button and sits up to face her directly. “I’m guessing you saw some of my breakfast buds from this morning at the pool, and that’s why you wanted to kiss me?”

Zoey bites her lip and surprises herself by shaking her head. “No,” she mumbles. “No, that... wasn’t it.”

Tobin is silent for a minute, clearly trying to decode whatever she’s offering him on her face. Zoey wonders how so much has changed in twenty-four hours. (Or maybe the changes have been happening for longer than that, she realizes.) “Well, I dunno, boss, but I  _ will  _ say that kiss was pretty baller, and it would be  _ kinda cool  _ if we could do it again. In front of the others, of course. So we can, like,  _ really  _ convince them, ya know?”

“You’re so stupid,” Zoey laughs.

A scarlet blush floods into Tobin’s cheeks. Her own face is heated from hearing him call her  _ “boss”  _ in a setting and context that is  _ distinctly  _ different from the fourth floor of SPRQ Point. And because he apparently hasn’t shocked her enough tonight, Tobin goes, “... can you say that again?”

“What?” she breathes. “That you’re stupid?”

Some kind of  _ noise  _ rumbles deep in his throat, and Tobin shifts his weight on the mattress, and Zoey kind of thinks it would also be cool if she ended up on his bed after all. “Do you... do you have any other orders for me, boss?” Tobin grunts, and they’re both done for.

“Yeah,” Zoey responds.  _ “Shut up.”  _ And this time it’s him who lunges forward, catching his lips on hers like she explicitly commanded it. So Tobin Batra has a bossy kink. Who knew?

She pushes into him, and they fall back onto his bed, lips straying all over. The way Tobin’s beard scrapes her skin makes the most inhuman moan seize Zoey’s throat. She thinks about all the versions of Tobin she has known for the past several years, all the little gestures that culminated into this moment, all the development that resulted in the guy currently underneath her, grinding his hips into hers and saying her name like it’s a prayer. How the  _ hell  _ did they get here?

And suddenly, Zoey doesn’t care about winning the second part of the competition tomorrow. It’ll be easier to focus, that’s for sure, considering there might not be as much, or  _ any,  _ relationship-faking on their part anymore. She doesn’t  _ need _ a fro-yo bar or new laptops; but she knows what she  _ wants.  _ (Don’t get her wrong— she would still  _ like  _ to win, and she knows they  _ will,  _ but it’s not the priority anymore.)

She doesn’t expect Tobin to break the kiss and mutter into her neck, “This is, like,  _ awesome  _ and everything, but I have something really important to ask you.”

Zoey sighs, but doesn’t fight it. “What?”

“You never got back to me about the high-five issue,” he explains. “And if we’re gonna do this thing, we  _ have  _ to make a formal decision on the fist-bump vs. high-five battle.”

God, he’s so annoying. But Zoey still finds herself saying definitively, “I’m more of a high-five kind of girl, I think. Is that okay?”

Tobin grins up at her. “You’re the boss.” Then his mouth is back on hers, and yeah, Zoey knows that she is completely, utterly, forever  _ fucked.  _


End file.
